More Cat Naps in the Heat

Must Be Something in the Holiday Air

So I'm standing in the kitchen, slicin' and dicin' a carrot salad to take to Klaire's this evening, when the phone rings.

"Jan?"
"It is!"
"This is Mike in El Paso"

Well, you could have knocked me over with a carrot stick. Remember Mike of the combover and nose hair and unruly eyebrows that stabbed me when we kissed? Holy Catz. I haven't heard from this boy in sixteen months!

He said he was just remembering the fun times we had together and missing me.

He did not ask if I had missed him. I haven't. Last year I told him he needed a haircut and to pay attention to his grooming, and I didn't hear from him for a week. We had been hot-and-heavy for three months (this was the first of last year's three-month relationships) and he was willing to throw it all away for a freaking haircut!

But that made me wonder how many hearts I've broken as I terminated this relationship or that for whatever egregious (or perceived-egregious) idiosyncrasy that appeared.

I could hear the loneliness and sadness in his voice. And I thought it ironic that on a day when I was also feeling sad and lonely, I receive this call from long ago and far away.

It's truly not my goal to break hearts. It's my goal to find the right heart to hold the future alongside my heart.

I guess hurt happens.

As he hung up, he said, "Well, I'll be talking to you." Then he caught himself, paused, and said, "No, I guess not."

113° in the Shade

And even hotter in the sun!

The forecast for today has, thankfully, been scaled down from 113° to 110°. And believe it or not, those three degrees really matter!

I thought you'd like to see where Rudi sleeps on summer desert days. Oh, and nights. When I wake up in the middle of the night and he's not in my bed, he's in my bathroom sink!

Holidays Are For Families

Happy Fourth of July

I start the day thinking I'm okay. The Professor is going with me tonight to my friend Klaire's party. That takes guts on his part, and I admire that. I can't tell you the number of men in my past who, having known me two weeks, would not go with me to a party of my friends.

This morning I ran out to Safeway to get the fixings for a carrot salad to take to Klaire's. And as I drive around, I'm aware of how alone in my Tucson life I am. I have friends, I have a date for tonight (Hallelujah!), I have my sweet little house, I have a decent job with a standard crappy Tucson salary. Compared to many other people, I'm great. But I feel alone.

Last night I received in the mail an invitation from John's brother and sister-in-law to my mother-in-law's 100th birthday celebration in Washington on the 15th. I had last night set aside to straighten my home office, and that got preempted by the need to figure out what to do. I called the Professor and left a message on his phone asking him to call me when he got in. He did, listened to my dilemma, and spent over an hour on the phone with me helping me figure out what to do. He listened, he asked appropriate questions, he offered suggestions, he helped me make a decision I was excited about. He behaved as if we were partners. I miss that, I miss having a loving partner in my life, more than words can say.

Fortunately, I had learned from Tyler that afternoon that he and Jaci and the babies will be in Washington that week. And my friend Polly had e-mailed just the day before asking when I was going to be in D.C. again and saying I always had a bedroom at their home. Putting all this together, I decided to take the JetBlue redeye through JFK to Dulles, arriving Friday afternoon. In speaking with Tyler this morning, I will rent a car and head for the Mall, where — by the magic of cell phones — we will meet up in one of the museums and have a few hours together before they head back to Youngstown. Saturday I'll have to myself to go by Arlington National Cemetery, then do whatever touristy things I want and have dinner with friends. I e-mailed Polly today to ask if she and Brian would be in town then. If they're not, I have lots of former Washington Chorus friends who have offered me space when I'm in town. And there's always my cousin in Gaithersburg. I've always been hesitant and shy to ask friends to put me up, but I'm going to spend $600 on this spur-of-the-moment trip, so shyness can just be damned!

I'll attend this party on Sunday, then I'll head for the airport and hunker down in my seat for the long flight through JFK back to Tucson.

But back to today and families. My whole life I have wanted to be included. I've wanted to have a family that loved me. How blessed I am that, through all my missteps as a mother, I have two wonderful sons, a miraculous daughter-in-law, and my two precious grandchildren, all of whom make me feel wanted and loved and cherished. If you're reading this, TJ, Ty and Jaci, thank you. And my family-of-choice — my brother- and sister-in-law and their children, who never forget me.

So why do I feel so alone today? I guess I want the whole day to be a holiday, to include togetherness and activities. I want to be part of a couple. Damn it. I want to be part of a couple. I'll go with the Professor tonight, and we'll behave as a couple would. He's affectionate and a toucher, as I am, and I love that. But I have no entitlements, I have no assurance that we'll have another date after tonight. (I have no reason to think I won't, you understand? I just have no assurance. There are no givens.)

And while I'm driving around, attending to life, feeling alone, I go into Safeway, where all the employees are wearing steel gray Prostate Cancer Awareness shirts. And my eyes well up with tears.

When the Professor came for dinner on Sunday night, he asked if I was still mourning John, still grieving. I don't think I am. I miss him horribly. I wish our life together had been much longer. Hardly a day goes by that I don't think of him. But I don't think I'm still mourning.

But on a day like today, I just miss being in a family, being part of a couple, having a connection, feeling like I'm home.

That brings to mind a favorite Billy Joel tune:

You're My Home

When you look into my eyes
and you see the crazy gypsy in my soul
it always comes as a surprise
when I feel my withered roots begin to grow.

Well I never had a place
that I could call my very own
but that's all right my love
cuz you're my home.

When you touch my weary head
and you tell me everything will be all right.
You say use my body for your bed
and my love will keep you warm throughout the night.

Well I'll never be a stranger
and I'll never be alone
wherever we're together
that's my home.

Home could be the Pennsylvania turnpike
Indiana's early morning dew
high up in the hills of California
home is just another word for you.

Well I never had a place that I could call my very own
but that's all right my love
cuz you're my home.

If I travel all my life
and I never get stop and settle down
long as I have you by my side
there's a roof above and good walls all around.
You're my castle, you're my cabin
and my instant pleasure dome.
I need you in my house
cuz you're my home,..
you're my home.


Happy Fourth of July. I hope you're basking in the warmth of family and loved ones today.

Terminology

I went to the orthopedist yesterday to try to figure out why my upper arm and shoulder have been hurting so terribly since I hefted Ridley and toted her around the Cleveland Museum of Art. Oh wait. It doesn't take a brain surgeon or even an orthopedist to diagnose that cause!

<Personal note on>
Aside to Ridley: "You're four. Grandma's over 50. You can walk. Grandma can't carry you."
<Personal note off>

Ah, but back to today's topic. As I was describing my symptoms to Dr. Parseghian, I said, "I've just started dating a new guy and I can't even hug him." (This was, of course, said with the proper Southern belle pout.) Dr. Parseghian laughed.

But then as I sat there waiting for my X-ray and shot of cortisone, I was thinking about today's terminology. I couldn't say, "I'm dating . . . ." I've had four dates with the Professor, and the fifth will be at a 4th of July party at my friend Klaire's. He's too newly hurt by the breakup with previous girlfriend and doesn't yet know specifically what he wants. He's not a boyfriend, he's not a beau. Oooh, but he's a darling! I'm keeping a tight leash on my smittenness.

Then there's Frank. We don't date. We kinda hang out. He likes to go out to dinner with one lovely lady after another, or go for a ride in the BMW with the top down. I rarely say "no" when he calls for dinner, so he knows that when no one else on his list says "yes" to his calls, he can punch me on his cell. We're more than friends. We're dear friends, I think. We know the ins and outs of each other's lives. We each know how the other feels about all the others in his or her life. We know what makes each other happy and sad and pissed off. But we don't date. Dating implies an emotional connection, I believe, and that doesn't exist with Frank.

And there are others. Lee, Larry, Doug, Howard, Mike. These guys I occasionally "go out" with — coffee, breakfast, a game of cards, maybe dinner — but they aren't dates, there's no possibility of a dating relationship with these men. (Now that I look back at the list, I would say Lee and Larry are my friends, probably my good friends, but the others are just guys I know. I think. So hard to categorize!)

So what is the terminology for the 21st century? I think I'm "seeing" the Professor. But that's such an old word for a complex new century. I think I hang out with Frank. If the Professor started objecting to Frank, I would probably terminate the hanging out. Frank is constantly adding new stalls to the stable for the new fillies he finds. He doesn't need me, he just likes my looks and my brain and my style.

<Personal note on>
To Wendy and Susan: You may protest all you want that you're not one of the fillies. But if it trots like a filly and neighs like a filly, by God it's a filly. Shut up and enjoy it.
<Personal note off>

I end this note, a year after I started this blog, hearkening back to a very early post. "They changed all the rules." I may have to invent a new dating dictionary so we all know who and where we are.

I Clean House Once Every Six Months, Whether It Needs It Or Not

The problem with this practice is that when you finally get around to having a cleaning day, it is just that: a day. A day-long event. Eight hours of brutally hard work.

But now it looks fabulous and I'm more determined than ever to keep it that way. We'll see how long that lasts.

The Professor came over for dinner last night. I prepared my salmon and a salad and had raspberries, strawberries, and blackberries with lemon sorbet for dessert. He loved it. He played piano for me; I played piano for him. We're trying to learn from each other's styles. We play the same piece and the two renditions are so very different. But his is jazz piano and mine's piano to shop by. Background. Easy listening.

Then I pulled out my Singers Unlimited boxed set — only available in Europe, therefore a treasure in America — and we listened to cut after cut of their fabulous music.

What a lovely evening with a lovely man.

Life: Full Speed Ahead

My twenty-four hour period of constant remembering is over for another year. And I made my annual trek to a jewelry store to buy myself a little treat in his honor. (You remember in your way; I'll remember in mine!)

Turquoise Door is having a going-out-of-business sale and I got a darling bracelet, crocheted from thin gold wire with green gemstones and pearls. And a matching pair of little green heart earrings.

(Just tried to photograph them for you, as words can't aptly describe. But lack of adequate lighting also doesn't enhance the image, so you'll have to trust me. The pearls that look kind of beigy or gold are really regular pearls. And the little hearts really are green. But won't they be great with a black dress for playing the piano at Raz?)



Now, on moving ahead. I just want to say this about the Professor: He is fun and funny and his humorous e-mails make me laugh. And yes, I'm cooking dinner for him tonight. Eeek. I have one dish I can prepare well. He'll have to either like it a lot or be willing to be subjected to experimentation on subsequent my-home-cooked meals. That's assuming he wants to come back for more after tonight. I'm hoping.

And to close, a quote from the character Marin Frist in the pilot of "Men in Trees," which I'm watching this morning as I clean off TiVo and clean the house:

You can't always get the one you want. And sometimes the one you get may not be the right one at all. But if you have hope, the universe has a funny way of showing you exactly what you need. The challenge is to let yourself be alone until the right one shows up.